


Surrender

by statikos



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statikos/pseuds/statikos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a very unsubtle competition going on for Rin's soul. But winning and losing isn't always clear cut.</p><p>[ Written for Day 2 of MakoHaruRin Week. Prompt was: Angel Human Demon. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> For my first act, I will do irresponsible things to the season 1 timeline!  
> I don't want to say too much here (even though I know I _always_ end up babbling anyway) because otherwise I'll give too much away. This really isn't as ~romantic as I meant for it to be, but what can I say? \o/ Maybe you'll have a fun time with it anyway.
> 
> Oh. But having said that: **trigger warning for discussion of suicidal ideation**.
> 
> This was for MakoHaruRin Week and it's not too late to join in, I don't think, so if you're into these three then [please do](http://makoharurinweek.tumblr.com/)! I'll be aiming to contribute a few more pieces this week. (At the very least there's no possible way I can resist the OT4 prompt. ;P) It feels good to be writing for Free! again! <3

Maybe one day, this will all make sense.

“Just stay home if you’re tired,” mutters the first voice. “Who cares?”

A second voice, louder and pitchier, protests. “W-wait, don’t listen to him! You want to improve your time for prefecturals, right? So you should make sure to put your best foot forward and get to practise early.”

“Ugh.” Rin buries his face in the blankets, but they don’t go away. Of course they don’t.

“That’s what I would do,” says the first voice.

“Haru! You aren’t helping!” cries the second. Rin feels a weight press down next to him on the bed and presses his pillow against his ears. “Ah, Rin…? Try and wake up, okay? Want me to help you?”

Rin rolls over slowly to see someone leaning over him, tall and broad with eyes like green stained glass. He looks very much like any other boy Rin’s age, but for the large, downy pair of wings on his back, which spread slightly to shield him from the blinding light of morning as it pours through the window. He holds out his hand with a smile, and Rin takes it slowly, letting him help him up.

“Makoto, you cheat.” Another weight sinks down at the end of the bed, and Rin glances up to see another boy sitting there, facing the door. Black horns sweep backward out of his dark hair.

“I—I didn’t cheat,” says Makoto, still gently guiding Rin out of bed. “I’m helping him get up, Haru.”

“He wants to stay in bed.” Haru himself flops onto his side at the end of the bed, still facing away from them, and the back of Rin’s neck prickles. When he lies like that, the curve of his neck is exposed just a little, and he wants to—

“No,” Makoto says, sternly. “That’s what he _thinks_ he wants. But he _needs_ to get up.”

Haru sighs, and stays where he is. “I guess.”

“Say it’s so.”

Rin tenses. Not yet. Maybe not just yet. They could stay a little longer. Maybe it isn’t over just like that? Haru rolls onto his back and looks up at him, eyes blue as ink. He knows his desires aren’t invisible to him—they never are—but after just a moment, Haru just closes his eyes and nods. “It’s so.”

The next time he blinks, it’s as if they were never there.

He had learned early on that they always disappear once they’ve resolved whatever conflict he might be facing at the time. The balance between them shifts from time to time depending on the size of their victories. Makoto’s wings had glowed golden for almost a week after he had convinced him to move back to Japan, closer to his family again. Then Haru had convinced him not to actually move back into the family home and they’d faded again. In their place Haru’s horns had grown to almost twice their usual size, so much so that they curved over at the ends and crept forward, the tips peeking over the tops of his ears. Makoto persuaded him to take care of his body. The horns shrank. Haru validated his aversion to seeing a counsellor. They grew again. Right now things seem to be in gradual decline, with Haru’s horns curving into spirals and Makoto’s wings dull as a mourning dove’s.

Rin doesn’t question, any more, if they are appearing to him because he’s losing his mind, or if they look familiar for any particular reason. All of this had been harder to accept when he was younger. Now it’s mildly inconvenient, if anything.

He looks at the fridge on his way out. Then Makoto materialises on his right. “Don’t you need to eat something?”

Haru on his left. “He’ll be late if he makes breakfast now.”

“He could have a sandwich.”

“Leave me alone.” Rin brushes past them. “I’m going to practise like you wanted. I’m not hungry.”

“He’s not hungry,” he hears Haru saying, as he opens the door. “Say it’s so.”

“It’s so,” says Makoto, quietly, as he slams the door behind him.

Because they always leave him, don’t they? They’ve been floating in and out of his life for years now, and yet there is always that sick jolt in his stomach when they leave, even for a little while. Once, Rin believed in constants; in a fishing boat returning the same time every day, something to wait for on the docks after school. Now, he believes only in the inevitability of change.

Of Haru’s horns twisting over at the ends like a ram’s, and of Makoto’s wings moulting onto his bedroom floor (he once picked up a quill as long as his arm, and held it until it melted away in his hands). Of times that get shorter then longer again no matter how long he trains. Of being lonely, until they come.

Only then they come and it’s not how he wanted it, even though Haru loses and that’s supposed to be good supposed to be what he wants only he wants—

“Go to sleep,” says Haru. “You studied enough.”

“You have your first test of the year at the end of the week,” Makoto points out, gently. “Don’t you want to do well?”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do,” Makoto coaxes. “It’s important to show you can balance your sport and your study.”

Haru yawns meaningfully from the foot of the bed. Rin’s eyes hover on him until Makoto reaches out and brushes his chin with his fingertips, drawing his gaze back up.

“Rin,” he says softly, “I’m sure you want to try your best.”

“Cheat,” mutters Haru, for the second time that day.

“I’m _not_ ,” Makoto protests. “What’s the matter? Why do you keep saying that? No, let’s not do this now—tell me—”

“You touch him too much,” Haru says simply. “You said _I_ shouldn’t touch him.”

“Because you’ll just try to _tempt_ him! A-and anyway…” Makoto faces away from Rin, his great wings preventing him from seeing either of their faces. “You know you don’t _have_ to listen to me—just him. I thought it was just that you didn’t _want_ to.”

“Rin wants me to,” Haru says. He sounds subdued, but Rin can only see Makoto’s feathers fluffing up in indignation. “It wouldn’t help, though.”

“I _don’t_ want that,” Rin snaps, standing up out of his chair. Makoto’s hand hovers over his shoulder, as if to pat it. “I don’t want _either_ of you to touch me.”

Makoto’s hand withdraws. “W-well, if you don’t like it, I won’t—”

“He’s lying.” Haru flops onto his back. “This is stupid.”

Rin bristles. “I’m not lying!”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“I am _not_!”

“You—”

“ _Haru_! That’s enough.” Makoto crosses the room to kneel next to the bed. “Why are you acting like this? Don’t you know this is serious?”

“No,” says Haru, “it’s pointless.  Don’t _you_ know that?”

Rin’s only witnessed this vulnerability between them once or twice—he imagines a lot more goes on when he isn’t looking—but this time it seems deeper and more painful than before. The first few times it was perhaps just a moment-long glance between them, or hands on arms or wings or horns.

“Don’t you know,” Haru continues, “that you’re going to die?”

Makoto shakes his head. “I won’t. Rin will do the right thing.”

“Then I’ll die. That’s fine for both of you.”

This time, Makoto hesitates. Rin just stares between them.

“No,” he says, slowly. Then: “You shouldn’t talk to Rin like that. He isn’t—”

“I’m still here, you know,” Rin interrupts, not because he thinks he has anything more important to say but because he simply can’t bear to hear any more. “Sorry to be so _inconvenient_.”

They both look at him in cowed silence.

“I’m not stupid. I know what this is,” he continues. “You’re competing for my soul or something, only you’ve got to do it in little bits at a time. _Why_? Can’t you just get it over with already? You want—you want me to sign it over to one of you or something? Or maybe—maybe you’re just going to _hover_ over me until I die, playing your _stupid_ game until I finally fuck it up for good.”

He throws out his arms.

“I didn’t ask for this! I don’t want your help or your _temptations_ or _whatever_. I want—I want—”

“You don’t know,” murmurs Haru. Rin feels his mouth run dry of words. His heart thumps unsteadily in his chest.

“Please, stop,” Makoto whispers, wings wilting onto the floor like weeping willows. “Please.”

A long, long silence then. Then Haru looks over at his desk.

“You’re not doing your homework,” he observes.

“Yeah,” Rin snarls at him, pulling open his sheets and slumping into bed. “You win, asshole.”

“Then we can leave,” says Haru. “If Makoto says it’s so.”

But the angel is bowing his head into his hands. “I don’t want it to be so.”

“You want…” Haru trails off, then tilts his head at him. “You _want_.”

They don’t quite seem to be taking the hint. Rin decides to remind them.

“Go fuck yourselves,” he says. Haru stands up off the bed. Rin isn’t watching him, but he can hear Makoto sniffing as his hands are pulled away from his face. A whisper he can’t make out. A kiss on the cheek. Yes, even here, even now, they’re so obsessed with their contest and each other that they totally ignore him.

…Only he told them to go away, so he shouldn’t be angry that they aren’t taking notice of him. Maybe he should have been more specific; said that he wanted them to go away but not for good. Go away, but don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me alone.

“Say it’s so,” Haru repeats.

Makoto sighs. “It’s so.”

If he never opens his eyes perhaps they will still be there, in that space between blinking. Rin falls asleep before he can find out if that’s true.

Haru comes alone the following night, after a long, long silence.

“What now?” groans Rin, sleepily. “Where’s Makoto?”

“Not coming,” says Haru, without looking at him. “Tired.”

Rin rolls his bleary eyes. “How can he get tired? He’s an angel.”

“Because he’s losing.” Haru sits down heavily. “If you keep going like this, I’ll win.”

“Good for you.” Rin turns over onto his stomach. “Must feel nice.”

Haru turns his head away. “Don’t want to win.”

“Huh?” Rin sits up halfway, sheets tangling around his middle, wide awake all of a sudden. “You don’t even _want_ to _win_?”

“No,” says Haru.

“You did it for no reason.” It’s so absurd that Rin has to laugh, laugh until it turns into tears and he has to put his fist up to his mouth to stop the sound. He speaks around the slowing sobs and swallows. “All of this is for no reason. I thought—”

“—that you were special.” Haru turns to face him, finally, though his eyes are still downcast. It seems to be difficult for him to talk like this. “You were. You are.”

Rin shakes his head. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Makoto just wanted to help. _I_ was…” He looks away again. His words are coming out jerkily, as if he has to force each one.  “…Wasn’t meant to. I wanted to. You wanted—a lot of things—wanted help. I’m supposed to tempt you with what you want. Only I didn’t want—I’m not meant to _want_ —”

“What is this? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you wanted to die,” says Haru, suddenly, harshly. “On the third of March, when you were fourteen. It was three thirty-two in the morning. Makoto decided.”

“Decided what?” asks Rin. He feels like he knows the answer himself, feels like he remembers _something_ about that night. Haru has gone quiet again. Rin leans over to him and takes him roughly by the shoulder. “ _What_ , Haru?”

Haru looks up at him and his eyes are tired. His horns shrink an inch behind his ears. “I don’t know. That you were sick. That we should help.”

“I’m _not_ sick,” snaps Rin, “I’m active. I look after myself.”

“No,” says Haru, “not like that.”

It takes Rin another moment to figure it out. Then: “No. _Not_ like that. Just because I see things—but I _don’t_! You’re real. Makoto’s real.”

Haru’s silent, now.

“ _Aren’t_ you? You’re real!” Rin reaches up and takes hold of one of his horns, yanking him around to face them, but Haru just lets his head loll easily in the direction of his hand. “Say something!”

“I am,” says Haru, closing his eyes. “It’s not that kind of sick. It’s my sick. Tired-sick. Lonely-sick. Leave me-sick. Want to and can’t-sick.”

This is hitting notes Rin recognises but can’t string together in a tune. He lets go of the horn, feeling its coldness slip from under his fingers.

“I’m called _Acedia_ ,” Haru explains, though it seems to be terribly _boring_ for him. “Makoto is _Industria_. I like your names better. They’re better than us, really. Your Haru and Makoto.”

Rin’s heart races. He sees something, feels something, feelings he squashed under piles of dirt when he dug up the trophy and filled in the empty hole again. “I—”

“Doesn’t matter now,” says Haru flatly. “I just came to say it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“So you’re giving up on me. Aren’t you?”

“Makoto thinks it’ll be okay now.”

“After last night?” Rin laughs bitterly, but then falls quiet. “Is… is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Haru says quickly. “He’s… giving someone a message. You’ll see.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Haru doesn’t reply. He stands up and goes to the window, staring out over the ocean and tilting his head as if he’s listening. Then he nods.

“It’ll happen soon,” he tells him. “You won’t remember, after.”

 _Don’t,_ cries Rin in his head. _Not now. I need you. I need Makoto. I can face you like this—you’ll just know me. I won’t have to explain—I_ can’t _explain—_

Haru is gone when he opens his eyes, but the window is open and the sea-breeze washes in, rustling the curtains. There’s a photograph on the bed beside him that he can just make out in the moonlight.

There are tears in his eyes. Is it because of Dad? His chest aches as if he misses someone, but it feels too much to be only one person. Anyway, he never misses Dad like this. He has Grown Out Of It. Didn’t he already decide he’d honor his memory by doing his very best? So there’s no reason to be sad. No reason at all.

Haru won’t be worth his time once he beats him in a real match. Makoto isn’t even a factor, with his green stained-glass eyes.

Why did he think of…?

His phone rings, over on the desk, but he doesn’t go to pick it up. Anyone who calls this late ought to know better; he could be (should be) asleep, after all. It cuts to the answering machine. And Makoto’s voice crackles out of the speakers on the other side of the room.

 _You’re okay,_ he thinks. But Makoto is fine. Why did he think that? It doesn’t matter. Makoto doesn’t matter. He listens. Gentle encouragement and tentative optimism. Things that aren’t said, too. Things Rin doesn’t want to hear right now. But maybe—

Maybe one day, this will all make sense.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Acedia_ means "Sloth" and _Industria_ means "Diligence". They are, respectively, a Cardinal Sin and its corresponding Virtue, because there was no way I could possibly do this prompt without going full pretentious on you.


End file.
